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OF  THE 

University  of  NortK  Carolina 

This  book  was  presented  by  the  family 
of  the  late 

KEMP  PLUMMER  BATTLE,  '49 

President  of  the  University  of  North  Carolina 
from  1876  to  1890 


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OT/X. 


THE  RED  CROSS  AND  THE  WAR 

JUDGE  ROBERT  W.  WINSTON 

AT 

ST.  MARY'S  SCHOOL 

RALEIGH,   NORTH    CAROLINA 


MAY  19,   1918 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2012  with  funding  from 

University  of  North  Carolina  at  Chapel  Hil 


http://archive.org/details/redcrosswarOOwins 


THE  RED  CROSS  AND  THE  WAR 

WHEN  little  Paul  Dombey  lay  dying,  he  turned 
his  big,  wistful  eyes  toward  Mr.  Dombey 
and  asked,  "What  is  money,  papa?" 

"Why,  money,  money,"  gasped  the  startled  Dom- 
bey, "money  can  do  anything,  Paul!" 

How  mistaken  he  was!  And  how  mistaken  are 
all  people  who  think  that  money  can  do  everything 
in  this  war.  Money  can  purchase  guns  and  shot  and 
shell.  It  can  supply  food  and  clothing.  But  money 
cannot  minister  to  the  wounded.  It  cannot  sooth 
the  fevered  brow.  This  is  the  work  of  a  woman's 
hand,  and  this  is  the  office  of  a  trained  nurse  and  of 
Red  Cross  workers.  Our  Government  is  supplying 
funds,  and  more  funds,  to  build  ships  and  equip 
armies  and  navies;  but  as  to  our  dear  wounded 
boys  in  the  hospitals  of  France,  they  must  hear  the 
sound  of  a  woman's  voice,  feel  the  touch  of  a 
woman's  hand  and  the  soothing  influence  of  her 
presence.  It  is  this  that  comforts  our  sons  in 
France;  it  is  this  that  sustains  us  at  home. 

For  these  reasons  the  Red  Cross  Society  of  Amer- 
ica is  a  personal  and  voluntary  organization.  Born, 
on  the  bloody  fields  of  Solferino,  to  mitigate  the 
horrors  of  war,  it  makes  a  direct  appeal  for  support 


to  the  hearts  and  conscience  of  our  people.  It  re- 
ceives no  assistance  from  the  United  States  Govern- 
ment. To  work  with  it  and  for  it  is  both  an  honor 
and  a  stimulant.  Its  president  is  Woodrow  Wilson. 
The  War  Department  audits  its  accounts,  and  it  has 
twenty-two  million  members.  It  has  no  salaried 
officers,  and  every  dollar  which  is  given  to  it  counts, 
for  there  is  neither  extravagance  nor  wastage.  Up 
to  this  date  it  has  received  nearly  a  hundred  million 
of  dollars  and  it  has  accounted  for  every  penny  of 
the  same.  It  is  now  proposed  that  we  raise  one  hun- 
dred million  more,  and  the  amount  assigned  to 
Raleigh  and  to  Wake  County,  of  which  your  school 
is  a  chapter,  is  $35,000. 

When  the  Italian  lines  broke  under  the  furious 
onslaught  of  the  Germans  and  Austrians  last  win- 
ter, it  was  the  Red  Cross  workers,  behind  the  lines, 
that  heartened  the  fleeing  soldiers,  fed  the  hungry, 
cared  for  the  wounded,  and  saved  the  day  to  civili- 
zation; and  it  is  now  the  American  Red  Cross  So- 
ciety in  France  which  provides  for  the  family  of  the 
French  soldier  and  nerves  him  to  stick,  stick,  stick 
to  the  end.  Up  to  March  1st  nearly  fifty  millions 
had  been  spent  among  our  allies. 

I  see  before  me  now  250  young  women.  Last 
week,  and  the  week  before,  I  saw  300  of  the  finest 
boys  on  the  globe  leave  our  midst  for  the  battle- 
fields of  France.    They  are  the  very  young  men  who 

2 


are  most  interested  in  you.  In  God's  own  way  it  is 
these  boys,  and  such  as  they,  who  shall  share  your 
future  life  with  you.  Every  one  of  them  is  a  hero. 
Marcus  Curtius,  Arnold  Winkelried,  Horatius  at  the 
Bridge,  what  have  these  heroes  of  song  and  of  story 
on  our  boys?  Nothing.  Christ  died  to  save  men 
from  hell  and  perdition.  These  young  men  will  die, 
if  need  be,  to  save  you  young  women  from  worse 
than  hell.  True,  they  are  fighting  for  their  country 
and  are  every  inch  patriots;  but,  after  all,  dear 
young  women,  it  is  for  you,  and  you,  and  you,  that 
they  fight.  Behind  every  bayonet,  as  it  flashes  in 
the  sunshine  of  France  and  buries  itself  in  the 
bowels  of  some  savage  German,  is  the  stimulating 
memory  of  you,  the  girl  he  left  behind.  And  the 
honor  and  glory  of  being  thought  worthy  of  you — 
the  thought  that  you  love  and  honor  him — will 
nerve  and  sustain  him  to  the  end.  But  one  flutter  of 
your  handkerchief,  and  he  will  storm  the  ramparts 
of  hell.  Let  us  suppose  that  ten  years  ago  it  had 
been  known  in  Raleigh  that  one  young  man — just 
one — had  volunteered  to  save  you  and  me  from 
direful  calamity — to  die  for  us — what  crowds 
would  have  gathered  to  greet  him!  What  a  hero 
and  a  martyr  he  would  have  been !  How  we  would 
have  shed  tears  as  we  gazed  upon  him,  and  how  our 
bosoms  would  have  swelled  with  emotion  as  we  did 
him  honor!    Yea,  how  we  would  have  begged  a  hair 

3 


of  him  for  memory!  And  what  have  we  now? 
Thousands  and  tens  of  thousands  of  young  men 
coming  forward  to  the  conflict  with  a  serenity  and  a 
high-hearted  gaiety,  the  only  rivalry  being  who  first  ■ 
shall  be  privileged  to  die  for  his  country;  the  only 
disappointment,  to  be  held  back  from  the  firing  line. 

I  know  that  you  honor  and  love  these  gallant 
boys.  They  at  the  front,  and  you  at  home,  keeping 
the  fires  burning  on  the  altars,  will,  under  God, 
redeem  the  world  from  tyranny.  And  how  supreme 
must  be  your  contempt  for  the  dastard  in  war — that 
cowardly  fellow  who  gets  himself  exempt  from 
service.  When  the  Greeks  had  been  defeated  by 
the  Asiatics,  and  Xenophon  had  called  a  council  of 
the  braves,  one  fellow,  Apollonides  by  name,  arose 
and  counseled  surrender.  Then  spake  brave  Aga- 
sias:  "This  fellow  is  no  Greek;  he  is  an  Asiatic. 
See!    He  has  both  his  ears  bored!" 

I  charge  you,  young  women,  to  join  the  Red  Cross 
Society,  to  co-operate  with  the  Y.  M.  C.  A.  work,  to 
be  one  of  the  glorious  canteen  girls  and  of  the 
Woman's  Council  of  National  Defense,  and  some  of 
you  to  serve  humanity  as  trained  nurses  on  the  bat- 
tlefields of  France. 

Once  upon  a  time,  Dean  Corwin  made  an  appeal 
to  a  great  London  audience  for  the  little  orphans 
under  his  charge.  The  appeal  touched  every  heart. 
Women  gave  all  their  money  and  threw  their  jewels 

4 


and  ornaments  into  the  cause.  I  do  not  ask  you  to 
do  this — though,  what  a  cause  is  ours — just  give  all 
the  money  you  have,  and  save  your  jewels! 

This  war  is  a  mirror  in  which  each  one  sees  his 
own  image  reflected.  To  the  man  of  faith  the  finger 
of  God  is  seen  in  the  burnished  rows  of  steel;  to  the 
doubter  the  end  of  all  things  is  at  hand.  To  Wini- 
fred Kirkland  there  is  a  "new  death"  born  of  the 
war.  To  her  the  old  death  was  but  a  barrier;  the 
new  death  is  a  bond.  The  old  death  hid  away  our 
loved  ones  from  conversation;  the  new  death  min- 
gles their  presence  with  our  daily  tasks.  Today 
brave  grief  is  a  sign  of  the  soul's  health. 

But  let's  away  with  thoughts  like  these;  they  are 
not  for  your  fresh  and  youthful  souls.  The  rather 
let  us  fix  our  gaze  with  the  steadfast  eye  of  faith 
upon  the  day  of  our  final  triumph,  as  triumph  we 
will;  for  ultimate  truth  has  always  triumphed,  even 
as  the  river  flows  into  the  sea.  The  democracies  of 
the  world  must  justify  their  right  to  exist,  and  they 
will. 

The  women  of  America  are  doing  their  part,  as 
women  have  always  done,  from  the  day  of  Martha 
and  Mary  to  the  midnight  death  of  Edith  Cavell  at 
the  cowardly  hands  of  a  people  obsessed  by  the  idea 
of  their  own  greatness  and  engulfed  in  the  welter 
of  a  paranoiac  kultur. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  N.C.  AT  CHAPEL  HILL 


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